The Archer & the Lion
by Christie Redfield
Summary: Tag for the Pilot. Pete awakens to find that Myka's been out stargazing again and nibbling on cookies.


Disclaimer: Warehouse 13 is © SyFy and the show's creator(s). No copyright infringement is intended whatsoever nor is any profit being made from this fanfic; i.e. it is purely non-profit.

Claimer: The only thing I own is this story, nothing more nothing less.

Spoilers: Pilot

Feedback: Love it, live for it, cherish it.

Category: Friendship/Angst

Rating: K+

Summary: Tag for the Pilot. Pete awakens to find that Myka's been out stargazing again and nibbling on cookies.

Author's Note: A post episode take on the Pilot. Once again _italicized text_ indicates thoughts, this time Pete's perspective. Bonus points to whoever catches the title meaning. ;) Enjoy!

The Archer & the Lion

By Christie Redfield

Pete's eyes opened tiredly, and with a sigh he closed them again, dragging a hand down his face. There it was again, the same damned vibe that had been hitting him on the head like a hammer. First it was at the B&B, and later again outside the ice cream parlor.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Pete picked up his watch and sighed, it was just past two in the morning. _Great, so much for sleeping tonight._ Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Pete grabbed his dark green Dartmouth hoodie and marched straight to his bedroom door. The door creaked loudly as he pushed it open and he cringed, certain the noise could likely wake the dead. As quietly and stealthily as possible Pete made his retreat, throwing his hoodie on over his shoulders.

Chancing a glance in the direction of his partner's room, Pete spied that the door was ajar and crept towards it, though the lights weren't on, he could definitely tell that the room was vacant, save for a very faint, occasional yip and mewl, most likely his partner's new pet ferret. _Well at least one of us sleeping._

Letting his feet guide him, Pete walked in the direction of the staircase and padded downstairs quietly, detouring first to the kitchen, as long as he was up he figured he'd at least grab a cookie. Upon entering the kitchen Pete spied a small trial of crumbs along the countertop and noticed that the paper towel dispenser had been moved slightly. Myka. It had to be her.

He couldn't help but notice both times they discussed Denver she had been nibbling on something sweet, first it was cookies, and later ice cream, if he had to guess it was probably a stress relief for her. And the both times that Denver came up, he hit a dead-end. Pete had a feeling there was more to that story then Myka was letting on, but clearly she wasn't the least bit thrilled about being here either, plainly put she felt she had her career thrown down the toilet.

To say he had taken to this place like a fish to water was an understatement, for all the oddities the Warehouse housed, he couldn't help but find them all fascinating, not to mention far-out, and also downright freaky, as evidenced by that crazy comb thing. No, he took that back, that thing was frightening, the way it transformed that woman? And then when she turned that thing on his partner? That definitely was a moment he did not want to relive anytime soon, no way no how.

Myka on the other hand had acted like she was thrown in the piranha pit, and was now desperately trying to swim away. No two ways about it, she _hated_ this place. A strange irony given how he thought _his _being here was punishment, to Myka this all felt like one big cruel joke. One of them had been given a sense of belonging, and the other had been given a sense of rejection.

Quietly Pete made his way to the back porch, and he shook his head sadly as he spied his partner sitting in one of the chairs, her long legs tucked under her, her head resting on one shoulder, her dark curls hiding her face. Nearby he spied a plate littered with crumbs, and a half empty cup of milk close by.

Pete hesitated before he approached her, wondering if she even wanted to talk to him at all, let alone at this late hour, be it about their recent case or Denver even. Still he had to try, even if it meant being shot down again, it was his nature. And dare he say it, she was pretty when she smiled, and he wanted to see her smile more often, give her a reason to.

"Myka?" Pete called out softly, upon receiving no reply he stepped closer and at first suspected she was asleep. He all but leapt backwards as she lifted her head up, one slender hand going straight for her eyes as she did, and she smiled embarrassedly. "Hey, did I wake you up?"

Pete shook his head as he sat down on the footstool across from her. "I couldn't sleep either." He lied, and he felt a tug at his heartstrings as he leaned closer as she sat up straighter in her chair; had she been crying? "You alright partner?" He asked quietly, his expression softened, had she been thinking about their last case? About Denver?

Myka's posture stiffened and she moved to stand. "I should probably get to bed, provided that stupid ferret doesn't keep me awake with his late night chittering." Pete reached for her hand gently, and she stilled, eying her partner curiously.

"Nah-uh, I'm not letting you go that easily, besides I may need someone to help me hunt for cookies, considering you pillaged the village." He stated playfully as he nodded in the direction of the plate of crumbs before he looked back in her direction.

"Pillaged the village? What am I a Viking?" She asked as she scrunched her neck slightly. The movement caused Pete to frown, had he upset her? He gave her a gentle smile regardless.

"Not a Viking, a Valkyrie!" At his reply her neck only scrunched further and Pete sighed, releasing her hand as he grabbed the plate and glass of milk, and stood up.

Myka snatched both the plate and the glass from Pete's hands before she marched straight into the kitchen, and he trailed behind her. Pete watched as she retrieved another cup from the cupboard before going for the milk.

"I thought you were going to bed?" He asked her as she filled both mugs, and placed them into the microwave.

She offered him no reply, and instead piled a handful of cookies onto the plate. The microwave dinged, and Pete shrugged and grabbed a cookie off the plate. Myka took his cookie and handed him a mug of warm milk.

"Goodnight Pete." Biting down on her cookie, Myka stepped away, and proceeded to make her exit.

"Myka?" Pete called out quietly, causing her to halt her steps, she didn't know why, but she stopped, and turned to face him, lifting her gaze from her mug of warm milk.

"Yeah?"

"If ever, ever you want to talk…" He started slowly, "…I'm here. Okay?"

Sighing Myka turned away, touched by his sincerity. "Goodnight Pete."

And with that she slowly made her way upstairs. Pete watched her from down below, waiting until he heard her door close shut on the second floor of the B&B before he returned to the kitchen to retrieve the plate of cookies.

He would never turn her away; his door would always be left open. And as long as his vibes kept dragging him out of bed because of her, he'd still be willing to lend an ear, no matter what this crazy place threw at them.

-FIN


End file.
